Precious Gift
by Lil black dog
Summary: Kirk is hurting. Spock does his best to help. Can't say more without giving too much away...


Disclaimer: Paramount owns Trek. I own this story. Anna owns Tarkelian tea. 'Nuff said…

A/N: Special acknowledgment to Anna and Steff, who presided over this birth as well. My heartfelt thanks ladies!

**Precious Gift**

They had been star-mapping for over three weeks now, just having finished with their third system and en route to their fourth. As he was correlating the data from the last system they had charted, Spock took note of the sounds around him signifying the smooth operation of the alpha bridge crew: Uhura, humming softly to herself as she completed routine checks of all systems at her console, while expertly relaying and cataloguing the flood of messages coming in. Sulu and Chekov engaged in quiet conversation, the helmsman chuckling softly, Chekov tapping the navigation console lightly, adding emphasis to his words, their soft tones floating up to his workstation. Mr. Scott, on the intercom with engineering, calmly requesting data on the status of the warp core and current statistics for the matter-antimatter balance, using the figures to properly calibrate his instruments at the engineering console. But one voice was conspicuously absent in this quiet cacophony of activity. He permitted himself a small, surreptitious glance at his captain, seated in the command chair.

Kirk seemed lost in thought, indifferent and oblivious to the proceedings going on around him. Pale and drawn, he was unaware of a young yeoman standing quietly at his elbow, padd in hand, waiting patiently for the captain to acknowledge her and sign off on the fuel consumption report. After allowing a respectable amount of time to pass, she cleared her throat softly. It took several moments for Kirk to come back from wherever his thoughts had taken him, and he shot the yeoman an apologetic grin, signing the report with a flourish.

"Captain, can I get you anything – some coffee perhaps? You seem a little tired today."

"No, thank you, Yeoman. Three weeks of this monotony is starting to make me feel like a fifth wheel up here. Now I know what they mean by 'Captain Dunsel.'"

Unsure of how to respond, the yeoman took the proffered padd, favoring Kirk with a confused frown as she tried to hide her discomfiture. "Yes, sir, very well, sir," she said, beating a hasty retreat for the turbolift.

Spock pondered that exchange. He knew full well the reason behind Kirk's melancholy, even if the others did not realize it. He suspected McCoy had been aware as well, when the doctor had stopped by the bridge earlier, attempting to engage Kirk in light conversation. The captain's replies to McCoy's gentle teasing had been short and clipped, none of the easy banter which characterized their relationship present, and after a while McCoy had turned to leave, citing a need to catalogue and organize the supplies they had recently picked up at Starbase 12.

Perhaps the doctor planned to confront Jim later, in private, as Spock was planning to do. He stole another glance at Kirk, who had once again lapsed into silence, rubbing his forehead absently. Rising smoothly from his seat, Spock stepped down to stand beside the command chair. Kirk looked up, favoring him with a wry grin that did not reach his eyes.

"Shall I be expecting you for our workout after shift, Captain?"

"Thanks, Spock, but no. I've got a lot of paperwork to catch up on, and I should take the opportunity to do so while things are quiet here. You know as well as I do how fast that can change," Jim said, something more than just fatigue evident in his voice.

Spock had expected a reply much like this, but knew he would have to engage Jim somehow. It simply would not do to let his captain bear this burden alone today. He forged on ahead.

"Perhaps a chess game later this evening, then, in my quarters, if that is acceptable?" he asked quietly. Dealing with emotional distress, especially that of the humans he worked with, had never come easily for him, but he knew with certainty that Jim would need support this day, and would accept it from no one else, save McCoy perhaps.

Kirk sighed quietly, mulling the request over for a few moments before responding.

"Sure Spock, that sounds fine. 20:00?"

"I shall expect you at that time, Captain."

He returned to his station. He had succeeded in arranging a meeting in private, but how would he engage the captain? He knew Jim would be unwilling to discuss it, not wanting to admit that there was a problem, or that he was hurting. Alpha shift was over at 16:00 – that would give him time to meditate and formulate an appropriate plan of action.

***

The buzzer to his cabin sounded at precisely 20:00, and he bid the captain enter. Kirk stepped through the doors, hesitating a moment as he allowed his body to adjust to the higher temperature and dim, red light. He moved to the unoccupied chair at the desk, where the chessboard was already set up, a glass of iced Tarkelian tea, complete with a sprig of fresh mint, awaiting him. He seated himself and sipped greedily at the drink.

"Thanks, Spock. That always hits the spot. And you made it just how I like it," he added, favoring his first officer with a satisfied smile.

"Indeed. Since I prefer it in the same manner, it is not difficult to prepare several glasses," Spock replied, sipping his as well. "Shall we begin, Captain?" Kirk noted that the board was set up so that he was white, allowing him to make the first move. The game proceeded rapidly, the two of them discussing minor ship's business while they played, but Kirk lost quickly, and was in check only a few moves into their second game.

"Jim, you are playing most illogically this evening – even for you," Spock said in all seriousness, but a ghost of a smile hovered around his eyes.

"Sorry Spock, guess my mind isn't on the game tonight," Kirk replied apologetically, fingering his queen before finally moving it to the third level.

"As I surmised it would not be, Jim."

Kirk looked up suddenly. "Really? And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked, the fatigue evident in his voice.

"It does not _mean_ anything, Jim, except that I expected your concentration would be compromised today."

"And just why would you think that?" he said harshly, his anger flaring.

Spock remained unfazed in the face of this sudden, unexplained outburst. "I am aware, just as you are, of the significance of this day, Jim. And I grieve with thee."

Kirk swallowed and dropped his gaze to the desk, toying with his tea, the chess game forgotten, absentmindedly wiping away the tiny droplets of moisture that had formed on his glass. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting the urge to sigh heavily. _Why did he ever think Spock wouldn't know, wouldn't remember? Spock had an uncanny knack for remembering _everything _- the most obscure historical facts and dates from dozens of worlds – so why would he forget the significance of this day?_

Two years ago today, they had arrived on Deneva to find his brother Sam had died as a result of his exposure to the parasites which had infested the colony. His nephew and sister-in-law had been infected as well, and while they had been unable to save Aurelan, they had managed to discover the secret to destroying the creatures in time to save Peter.

"It's been two years, Spock – I grieved and moved on. Peter is doing well, back on the farm with Mom. The past is the past – I can't change it, so why dwell on it?" he said softly, head still bent, not meeting Spock's eyes.

"That may be true, Jim, but time does not heal all losses. You did not often speak of your brother, but when you did it was always with the utmost respect, tinged with awe and admiration."

"And that surprises you?" he asked gruffly, shifting his glance to the Vulcan's face. "The great Captain Kirk in awe of another being?"

"It does not. He was your older brother – it was only natural that you looked to him for guidance, sought his approval," Spock answered gently. "He was your brother, and you loved him."

"And just what the hell would you know about that, Spock?" The words were past his lips before he could stop them. He glared angrily at Spock for a moment, then turned away, indignation, remorse and grief playing swiftly over his features, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to find his center.

He looked at Spock, who had lowered his gaze, hands clasped loosely in his lap, his face tight and drawn, the Vulcan mask firmly in place.

"I'm sorry, Spock – that was uncalled for. I guess I do feel worse than I admitted, even to myself," he apologized sheepishly. Spock looked up at that, his eyes troubled.

"But that is just it, Jim – the fact is, I do know how it feels to lose a brother, for I almost lost one, twice in fact, in the last three point two seven months," Spock replied, not breaking eye contact, allowing his gaze to bore into Jim. The deep brown eyes were revealing more than usual, and Kirk could plainly see the depth of feeling evident there.

"Wha-?" Kirk began, his uncertainty clear, his eyes on the Vulcan, searching his face. Realization dawned slowly. Spock was talking about him. How he had almost lost Kirk on Amerind, and then again in Tholian space. He felt an odd falling sensation somewhere in the vicinity of his gut, as if a turbolift had started to descend at three times normal speed.

He knew Spock thought of him as a brother, more than a brother, in fact, but the Vulcan had not voiced it until now. Why? Was this Spock's awkward attempt to provide the emotional support he thought Kirk needed on the anniversary of Sam's death? He marveled at how far they had come: Almost three years ago, barely a month into their five-year mission, his first officer had admitted to being ashamed of their friendship, and shortly thereafter apologized for his seeming insensitivity to Kirk's plight when he was twinned into his good and evil sides by the transporter. And now he was declaring Kirk his brother?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the buzzer to Spock's quarters, the doors swishing open before permission to enter was given.

"Spock, I –," McCoy started as he entered, swallowing the rest of his sentence as he noticed Kirk seated at the desk opposite Spock.

"Oh, hi Jim," he began awkwardly, "I just needed to touch base with Spock on – "

"Forget it, Bones, I know why you're here," he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "It would seem Spock has beaten you to the punch, however."

McCoy glanced quickly at Spock, who responded by folding his arms across his chest and cocking an eyebrow, angling his head slightly toward the doctor. McCoy looked back to Kirk, his eyes softening noticeably as he asked, "You okay, Jim? How are you holding up?"

"I'm glad to know my two best friends think I'm an emotional wreck," he said, somewhat sarcastically, favoring McCoy with a slightly acerbic glare.

"We're just worried about you, Jim," McCoy said, gathering Spock into that statement with his eyes. "Losing a brother is never easy, and the circumstances surrounding Sam's death were particularly difficult." He had moved to stand at the end of the desk, hands behind his back, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"I'm all right, really gentlemen. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it today, but I've made peace with the loss. Sam wouldn't want me to dwell on it. He'd probably say something like, 'get over it, kid.'" He dropped his gaze to the desk again, idly fingering one of the captured chess pieces, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Sam and I were very close as kids, and since Dad was away so much Sam was the person I looked up to, the one I admired and wanted to be like, but as we got older and our career choices took us in different directions, we grew apart. The affection was always there – he was my big brother after all – but it wasn't the same as when we were kids. I've tried to spend today remembering the good times we shared…and the mischief we caused. God, we were into everything as kids. If Mom knew some of the stuff we'd done…" His voice trailed off, wistful and melancholy, as he silently remembered snippets of events from his youth.

"Well, at least you're acknowledging it, which is a lot more than we got you to do when it happened. You're not Spock, you know – he might be able to keep it all in without going supernova, although I have my doubts – but you _are_ only human, much as you might like to believe you're indestructible," McCoy said quietly, unclasping a hand from behind his back to gently brush Jim's shoulder. The men lapsed into silence, and the moment became awkward, somber, strained.

It was Spock who broke the tension. "Doctor, even you must be fully aware that it is a physical impossibility for a person to go 'supernova,'" he stated reproachfully.

"Jeez Spock, why do you always have to take everything so blasted literally?" McCoy said, turning to the Vulcan. "I only meant that it's unhealthy for humans to hold in their feelings – and I firmly believe that you holding in _your_ feelings –" Spock rolled his eyes slightly at this, "– will someday be your undoing," McCoy finished with a flourish. "Mark my words, Spock," he said, waggling a finger at the Vulcan for emphasis, "it's gonna happen someday, and when it does, I just hope I'm there to say 'I told you so.'" Yet despite the seeming gruffness of his words, it was impossible to miss the soft undercurrent which served to express McCoy's genuine affection and concern for the Vulcan.

As Kirk listened to this exchange between his CMO and first officer, he marveled at the change in their relationship as well. They may still try to hide it behind bickering and thinly veiled vitriol, as they were attempting to do now, for his benefit no doubt, but for one who could see it, there was a new level of respect and trust present which had not been there to this degree several months ago. He wondered idly what had brought about the change.

"Well, I think I'll be going – wouldn't want to wear out my welcome."

"Really, Doctor, I wasn't aware one could 'wear out' an intangible concept," Spock intoned, softening his words with a raised eyebrow and a slight relaxation of the muscles of his face. The doctor shifted his gaze to Spock, and Kirk noted a warm smile crease the medico's features.

"Thanks Bones, the sentiment is appreciated, but I'm really okay."

McCoy's attention once again returned to Kirk, and he favored the doctor with his most charming 'don't worry about little old me' smile, then lifted his glass, swallowing the remainder of his tea.

"Okay, g'night, Jim, night Spock." He looked at each man in turn, and Kirk could see something pass silently between the two, Spock acknowledging the doctor's look with an almost imperceptible nod of the head and slight quirking of the corners of his mouth. _Spock really has come a long way from the beginning of the mission, at least with the two of us, _Kirk mused silently.

As the doors closed on McCoy, the room once again became quiet, each man temporarily lost in his own thoughts. Kirk broke the silence first, wanting to take advantage of an opportunity Spock might not grant him again.

"You were right, you know. I have been preoccupied today, but what I'm feeling for Sam isn't so much loss, as guilt," he said quietly, eyeing the Vulcan carefully.

"Why would you feel this way, Jim? There was nothing you could have done differently to prevent his death." Genuine confusion was evident in Spock's tone.

"Not guilty because I didn't prevent it, but guilty because I was thankful I didn't have to witness it. It was hard enough to see Aurelan in such pain, to watch her die, but for me to watch Sam would have been unbearable," he said softly, the anguish at remembering those events etched on his face.

"There is no shame in that, Jim, it is understandable for one not to wish to personally experience the pain of someone who is close to you," Spock offered gently.

"But there's more to the guilt than just that." He sighed, wanting to get this right, wanting to make sure Spock understood – that there was no doubt as to his meaning. "You know, Spock, I think of you as my brother as well, and as much as I felt Sam's loss at the time, a small part of me was relieved it wasn't you," Kirk confessed quietly, dropping his gaze from the Vulcan's face. "Sam was the brother of my youth – the one I looked up to and admired, and I do miss him, more than I care to admit sometimes, but you are my brother in arms, the one I trust implicitly and rely on without thinking twice. The one who keeps me honest, questions me when I need it, makes sure I don't lose sight of what's important, and yet stands by me unerringly. That is a priceless gift, and a lot more than I had with Sam." He risked a glance at Spock, who had bowed his head, a slight green tinge stealing over his features.

"You honor me, Jim," he said simply, the warm eyes meeting his over the chessboard dark and heavy with this confession.

"As you do me, my friend."

They lapsed into silence once again, a wide grin breaking over Kirk's countenance.

"Thank you, Spock."

"I do not understand. For what are you thanking me?"

"For remembering, for understanding, for wanting to share this with me, and most of all, for trusting me enough to offer me your friendship – it's an unexpected gift and one I cherish."

"As do I, Jim," the Vulcan said quietly, allowing his eyes to say what his words could not.

As the silence stretched, Kirk realized that his strong emotions might be proving too much for Spock. Not wanting to cause his friend undue distress, he rose quickly to his feet.

"It's getting late, Spock, I really should be going," Kirk remarked, his face flushing slightly.

"If you feel you must, Jim that is agreeable. We can finish the game at another time," Spock replied, also rising from his chair, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Why, so you can beat the pants off me again?" Kirk stated, allowing the affection to show clearly in his voice.

"Jim, why should I wish for you to lose your trousers, as well as a chess game?" Spock asked, his tone serious, but his eyes alight with mischief.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Jim responded, the warmth in his voice allowing for no misunderstanding of the sentiment behind his words, his smile warm and genuine. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, heading for his own quarters.

***

As Kirk crawled into bed later that night, he marveled at the fact that the universe had seen fit to give him two such close and trusted friends. They had been together just three short years, and yet he felt as if he had known each of them his whole life. They understood and accepted his personality quirks, and yet each man would confront him in his own way if he felt Kirk was not handling a situation appropriately, whether it be professionally or on a personal level. He thought about the future, and though he was unsure what it might hold for them, right now, at this moment, all was as it should be.


End file.
